Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: First Battle (3)
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The company commander let out a hollow laugh, as if exasperated by my words, and said,
"I understand your enthusiasm as a student platoon leader jumping into your first battle and trying harder than anyone. But aren't you fighting a bit too hard? It's only the first day—take it easy."
He was expressing a mild complaint with those words, but this was actually a remarkably favorable reaction.
The company commander had just been rolling in the dirt at the vanguard alongside the soldiers until moments ago, and must have been exhausted beyond belief. Yet here he was, giving ear to a greenhorn like me.
No, more than that—he was leaving room to heed the tactical suggestions of a provisional platoon leader who hadn't even properly graduated from the academy.
"If you'll permit it, sir, for the next rotation, the Jaeger Platoon would like to take the center of the assault, carrying the flag symbolizing the student platoon. And when we clash with the enemy, if we demonstrate the same overwhelming superiority as in the previous engagement before the rotation, please deploy the company in support."
For a mere rookie platoon leader—or in company terms, the equivalent of a fourth-year college intern—to make such a proposal to the company commander...
Unless it was some high-ranking noble's young master, whose family might later pressure him into reassignment if ignored, he'd normally get an earful: "What do you know, you clueless rookie? Is war a game? Do you have two lives to spare?" Followed by a barrage of crisp, colorful curses and a poor performance review.
But what if those words came from the guy who, just minutes ago in his first real combat, hadn't cowered in fear, overreacted and disrupted the lines, or rampaged wildly? What if he'd stood at the vanguard, fought without yielding an inch, and racked up better results than any other platoon in the company?
Then it was worth listening to and considering.
"...Hah, you really go out of your way to pick the tough jobs. If another student platoon leader had said that, unless your father was at least a count, I'd have chewed him out and dismissed the idea outright. But you've shown good form so far, so I'll hear you out."
I inwardly cheered at how things were going exactly as planned and replied.
"From our last engagement, I judged the enemy unit's strength to be inferior to our company's. Moreover, their battalion commander must be grinding his teeth after losing three mages and numerous soldiers right at the start of today's fighting."
"Indeed."
"But if he learns that the core of our company—the one that inflicted heavy casualties—is a student platoon with less than half the strength of a regular one? He'll think it's laughable, seize the opportunity, press the attack to seize the initiative, and that's when we'll counter and crush them. Even if they don't take the bait, as you saw in the fight up until now, our platoon has the power to hold its own against the others. We'll show you the same when we take the vanguard again."
I added one final line without waiting for the company commander's response.
"The division commander is desperate right now to prove he turned raw recruits into fine officers before His Highness the Crown Prince's campaign begins. A report that my platoon, under your command, fought at the heart of the company would do wonders for your personnel evaluations and promotions going forward."
With that, the company commander nodded as if he understood and said,
"Very well. Fifteen minutes from now, I'll place your unit in the center and follow your proposal. I'll tell the standard-bearer to swap your platoon's flag for the student platoon one."
"It's an honor, sir."
"Use the remaining fifteen minutes to really rest up. Hurry and get things done so you can squeeze in even one extra minute."
Fifteen minutes later, I positioned myself at the center of the Jaeger Platoon's first rank, where the fiercest fighting was unfolding.
After switching places with the outgoing First Company up front, our platoon advanced slowly toward the enemy.
The enemy company commander seemed to notice that the newly rotated platoon flying a student flag wasn't carrying a regular platoon standard.
He raised blue flags signaling a charge to his own company's standard-bearers and bellowed in a thunderous voice that carried clearly over the din of battle, even from ten meters away.
"Unlike the company we just fought, over there is a platoon led by some snot-nosed kid! They've dragged students into facing the great Franco Republic Army! Fresh chicks! Teach them the terror of the Franco Republic! Slaughter the rookies!"
In response, the enemy officers and soldiers roared like dogs barking wildly before tearing into prey.
"The damned imperials are so cornered they're sending students to the front lines! What else could it mean but admitting defeat? Let's sever their necks and grant them a swift end to this wretched life!"
"Any soldier who takes that bastard's head gets an instant promotion! Charge in the name of the Republic!"
"Look at the newbies—their armor's shining way too bright!"
As the distance closed and spear tips met...
I applied the spear techniques straight from the academy, swatting aside the shaft of the spear facing me.
The enemy's spear tilted right, exposing his bare face in that instant. Horror at impending death froze on the soldier's features.
To end that terror even a second sooner, I gripped my spear tightly by the wrist and thrust for his throat.
A reserve officer trained in spear arts at the academy could manage this against enemy grunts, but when the platoon leader who'd shone in his first battle stepped up to claim his first kill...
The deputy platoon leader shouted on behalf of our platoon.
"Follow the platoon leader! Don't let yourselves get pushed around by those impotent old farts who can't even command a single platoon properly!"
With that, our platoon's soldiers surged with momentum, killing enemy soldiers one by one with me at the fore.
The enemy platoon facing us tried to hold at first, but they couldn't withstand the Jaeger Platoon's wave-like onslaught and began to give ground.
As I steadily cut down the soldiers blocking my path one by one, a gap quietly opened behind their formed ranks before long.
This was the perfect timing to call in company-wide support and smash the enemy.
"Standard-bearer, raise the flag to signal the company commander for full frontal support. Once the other platoons confirm and move in, exploit the breach—shatter their company and go for the battalion commander's head!"
Capturing a high-ranking battalion commander with just one platoon would be a tall order.
But as a commander, a bit of bravado like this would boost the troops' morale.
Besides, though I came from common stock, our interests aligned with the division commander—this show of guts would earn his favor.
Sure enough, I spotted the company commander and other officers coming up behind us in support, gripped my spear anew...
The enemy company commander—no, battalion commander—seemed to grasp that the Jaeger Platoon was our company's core, dispatching follow-up units nonstop to check us.
"Hold out just a little longer here, and we'll be the stars of this war!"
"If the platoon leader racks up merits and gets promoted, so do we! Early discharge by months!"
Were my platoon soldiers fired up because the company commander himself was leading reinforcements from the rear?
Or drunk on the foretaste of victory? Either way, morale was sky-high.
To boost our allies' spirits further and lead us to triumph, I raised my spear high in one hand and shouted,
"Deus watches over us! Deus Vult! The gods desire victory for our righteous Empire!"
I immediately signaled the supporting company commander behind us that we could break their battalion with this momentum.
He promptly sent the signal requesting the entire battalion's support—no hesitation.
He'd volunteered for night watch right after hitting the front lines to impress the battalion and company commanders, then fought fearlessly at the vanguard at risk of death, earning solid trust in return.
Realizing that snapped my resolve to stay ice-cold as platoon leader bearing over thirty lives.
In its place stood only the ruler commanding a slice of this war where five hundred allies and five hundred foes stole lives from one another.
Was that why? From head to toe, an intoxicating sense of omnipotence surged through me—the battlefield bending to my will.
I recalled the lesson that such excitement could upend a perfectly set table, took deep breaths to regain composure.
It worked; my heart, pounding madly like drums shaking my eardrums, slowed to a steady thump. My vision, crammed with enemies, widened to encompass the landscape behind.
With thoughts sorted, waiting for the other companies from the rear to reinforce, a man appeared in the enemy lines unlike any other officer I'd seen—decked in ornate armor.
"One measly company breakthrough, and honorable Franco Republic soldiers cower like this?! I, Raphael de Valliere, battalion commander of the Valliere Battalion, will lead from the front as an example befitting my nobility. Follow me!"
As the man—no, Battalion Commander Valliere—took position at the front, his battalion, crumbling moments ago, began regaining order.
At this rate, our platoon's achievements would cap at crippling one enemy company.
Impressive for a student platoon leader commanding one: fracturing a battalion, nearly annihilating a company.
Exaggerate a tad, and it was genius-level merit for a first deployment.
But if our battalion seized this moment and charged all-out, we could wipe out Valliere's entirely.
So now was the time to gamble everything on victory.
"Platoon standard-bearer, raise the charge signal twice and demand full-speed support! The battalion commander's shown up to rally them, but shattered lines don't reform quickly!"
Deputy Platoon Leader Sergeant Schmidt and the others froze in shock for an instant, then readied to charge at full tilt behind me.
Normally, no one charges infantry head-on at full sprint—that's suicide.
But disrupted formations crumble like dominoes under a hard hit.
And ten, no twenty seconds later, signals came from the company commander and nearby friendly companies approving the maneuver.
I gripped my spear hard, bellowed "Charge!" and "Follow me!" at the enemy battalion commander frantic with reorganization, and bolted forward madly.
Behind me, an entire battalion became one spear, hurtling with terrifying momentum at the heart of the Franco Republic's Valliere Battalion. The enemy panicked as our all-out assault hit before their regrouping finished.
Valliere himself, unable to fully rebuild his half-broken battalion, could only roar amid terrified soldiers frozen in place, urging them to form up and charge.
"Reform the lines! Form up one second faster! Do it, or not just me—you all die!!!"
But hundreds of soldiers, lacking even basic drill training to move as one body, couldn't meet his hopes.
They just flailed in confusion, bumping into each other, formations failing to take shape.
Pathetic sight, but what could you do?
Units untrained in collective movement naturally flounder limbs akimbo in crisis.
With that thought done, I set my four-meter spear aside, drew the sword at my waist.
As distance shrank—five meters, three—the enemy battalion commander's face filled with dread at being cornered so swiftly by a mere student platoon leader.
In that moment, Valliere swung at my neck, shouting,
"How dare a lowly junior officer challenge me, a battalion commander! Insolent fool!"
Dead by noble hand or beggar's—it's all the same in the grave. What's there to quibble over?
"Highborn or low, Deus welcomes all the dead equally—yet you Republic men yap like women!"
Instead of swinging back, I sidestepped slightly, channeling his momentum into a full-force kick to his face with my iron greave-shod boot.
The vivid crunch of bone and muscle yielding beneath the steel transmitted through.
His torso crumpled to the dirt, face and neck shattered, blood pooling as he expired on the spot.
I severed his head with my sword, hoisted it high in my left hand, and yelled,
"Peter Jaeger has slain Raphael de Valliere, battalion commander of the Valliere Battalion! Clear the way and surrender if you don't want to die!"
Best to press the momentum onward, but sunset brought retreat signals from both armies' HQs.
Felt a real pang of regret withdrawing.
Glancing back, Franco Republic corpses littered the ground thickly, my soldiers soaked head to toe in their blood.
From the scene, it looked like we'd annihilated Valliere's battalion with our platoon at the core.
Greed bursts the belly, as they say—so satisfaction here for now.
But next time, I'd rack up even bigger merits and climb higher.